


A Sticky Situation

by Seraph_Novak



Series: Destiel One-Shots [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Boners, Blow Jobs, Flustered Dean, Happy Ending, I'm so sorry, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, POV Castiel, Pining Castiel, Please read for the sake of my sanity, Prank Wars, Sam Winchester is a Little Shit, this is much longer than i intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraph_Novak/pseuds/Seraph_Novak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Castiel isn't quite sure what he expected to find, but this certainly wasn't it."</p><p>When Sam decides to swap Dean's lube for superglue, the elder Winchester finds himself in a rather 'sticky situation' (excuse the pun). What will happen when he calls his best friend, Castiel, for help?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sticky Situation

Castiel isn't quite sure what he expected to find, but this certainly wasn't it.

From the sloppy urgency of Dean's text message, urging him to 'get his ass around here – pronto', Castiel had instantly assumed the worst. He'd been afraid of stumbling upon a bruised and bloody Dean sprawled out on the floor, a couple of limps scattered across the carpet, but no. Dean is not dead, nor is he missing any limbs (unless you count the one that is currently lost in his pants). In fact, despite suffering from a serious case of red cheeks and stuttered speech, he appears to be perfectly healthy.

"Uh. Hey, Cas… Told you it was bad. Heh."

Castiel blinks, willing his mind to catch up with what his eyes are currently trying to process. Because surely he's seeing things, right? Surely Dean, his best friend, is not standing before him with one hand wrapped firmly around his own genitals. _Surely_ the other boy wouldn't subject him to such awkwardness.

"Um." It's all he can manage, followed by another round of furious blinking.

Dean flushes two shades deeper, pointedly refusing to shift his gaze from Castiel's probing stare. With his free hand, he ruffles the dark golden strands of hair clinging to his forehead, still wet from the shower.

"How," Castiel starts, reluctant to _actually_ discover the meaning behind this rather embarrassing situation "How on earth did this happen?"

"Take a wild guess, Cas."

Quite frankly, Castiel doesn't want to think about the possible events leading up to such a predicament. If he starts to allow his mind to picture Dean touching himself, stimulating _pleasure_ to himself, he may very well spontaneously combust right on the spot.

He swallows the rising lump in his throat, determined not to let this silly mistake ruin everything he's done well to protect over the years.  

"Start from the beginning."

He waits patiently for Dean to tell him his story, all the while struggling to keep his eyes above waist level. Only in his wildest dreams had the older Winchester been exposed to him like this, beautiful and blushing from head to toe. He knows too well that such thoughts are inappropriate, considering the bond he and Dean share, but sometimes the feelings lapping at the shores of his mind are too persistent to drain away.

"It was Sam," Dean finally admits with a groan, shifting his stance ever so slightly "The little bitch swapped my – uh, my lube… f-for super glue."

Castiel has to take a few steadying breathes to vanquish all thoughts of Dean and lube; the idea of his best friend wrapping around himself, hand slick and smooth against his skin, well and truly knocks the air out of his lungs.

"That sounds a little extreme, even for Sam."

Dean huffs a laugh "Well, I did kinda pin up a giant clown poster at the end of his bed… I sorta had it coming."

He should have known. These damn Winchesters and their silly pranks, always trying to one-up each other. Why couldn't they just play video games, like normal brothers?

"Still, you could've been hurt." He says softly, daring to approach the other boy with small, hesitant steps "You may need to see a doctor."

Dean pales at the prospect of driving to the hospital, his ruddy cheeks turning ghastly white in the blink of an eye.

"What? No way, man!"

"Dean –"

"All the cute nurses will laugh at me!"

He shrugs, fixing Dean with a frustrated glare "Well… then we'll just have to call your dad, or Bobby."

"Fuck, no!"

Castiel growls, finding the nerve to yank Dean by the arm (his _free_ arm) and haul him into the downstairs bathroom. Honestly, you'd think that he was _purposely_ trying to humiliate the other boy.

"Sit," He says, practically throwing his friend onto the closed toilet seat "Where does John keep his tool box?"

"Uh, kitchen. Under the sink. But –"

"Wait here."

After growing up with Anna, the artist of the family, he knows a few things about super glue. The amount of times his older sister has come home from college, adhesive substances and bits of newspaper caught her bright red hair, has taught him enough to help rid Dean of this 'sticky situation' easily enough. Well, he hopes so anyway.

"White spirit," He proclaims with a sigh "It will help remove it."

"How do I –?"

"Get some toilet paper, rub it on gently –"

"But –"

"Rinse yourself off. I'll be in the kitchen."

"Cas!"

He turns slowly to meet Dean's startled expression. He really doesn't have time for this; he was knee-deep in revision when this assbutt had texted him. But, then again, this is _Dean_ they're talking about – quite possibly the love of poor, pathetic Castiel's lonely life.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Won't this stuff, uh… b-burn, or something?"

He smiles softly, completely helpless against Dean's natural adorableness "It's a mild irritant, Dean. Just rinse it off and you'll be fine."

"But –"

"Do you honestly think that I'd put you in harm's way?"

Dean freezes mid-sentence, unreadable expression flitting across his face. Castiel has the utterly frustrating urge to kiss that look away.

"Uh, no." Dean says after a moment's pause "Course not, Cas."

"Alright. I'll be outside, then –"

"Stay with me."

"What?" He squeaks, throwing an incredulous look over his shoulder "W-Why would I do that?"

Dean suddenly looks bashful, not that he has any reason to be (besides the fact that his hand is currently superglued to his private parts). They're just two boys, after all; they've both suffered from the horrors of gym class, so it's not like they haven't seen other _members_ before. Dean fidgets on the toilet seat like a pre-schooler going 'pee-pee' for the first time by himself, before finally meeting Castiel's wary gaze once again.

"I dunno… I-In case I, uh, hurt myself. Or something. It'd probably be best if you were close by."

Castiel sucks in a panicked breath "Outside _is_ close by, Dean. All you have to do is call my name and I'll come."

For some reason, that makes Dean blush even brighter.

"Look. If it's gonna make you feel awkward and what not, it's fine. Just –"

"Dean, please. I'm sure I've seen worse from you."

But that's definitely a lie. Ever since Castiel caught a glimpse of Dean Winchester's bare bottom at a sleep over in eighth grade, he's sworn to himself never to let his lust for the other boy cloud his judgement. That's why he always gets changed in the cubicles after track, why he refuses to accompany Sam and Dean to the beach during the summer, for the fear of having to stare at strips of perfectly golden, freckled skin all day, why he deeply detests (and loves) that particular pair of tight-fitting jeans that his friend sometimes wears.

Because the truth is, if Castiel ever _were_ to see 'worse' from Dean, he's fairly certain that he'd never be able to tear his eyes away again.

"Right," Dean says, rather miserably "I'll just… get on with it, then."

Castiel slumps. When has he ever been able to resist that face? It's just unfair, really.

"Okay. I'll stay, if you want me to."

"Really?" Dean perks up, voice light and hopeful "You're not gonna… feel _weird,_ or anything?"

"I'll just stand here and avert my eyes, of course."

Dean chuckles a little, reaching for the clear bottle Castiel had placed on the side. He tries not to notice the outline of _something_ straining against Dean's pants as the other boy leans over. It's probably just his hand, anyway. Yeah. Just his hand.

"Are you… ready?" He asks quietly, covering his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"Yeah. I'll just – woah!"

"Dean?!" He flinches "Dean, what is it?"

"Dude! This stuff frickin' _stinks_!"

Castiel heaves a sigh of relief, even though he knows that the turpentine won't causes any immediate discomfort. He just can't seem to stop worrying his head off about the stupid Winchester boys, particularly the stupid, older, _attractive_ Winchester boy. Not that his looks are the only notable feature of Dean's; there's his courage and kindness and good soul. Sometimes, Castiel can swear that he can see it – blinding white light bursting like sun rays from his friend's chest. 

"Just hurry up, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah…"

Behind his makeshift blindfold, Castiel is left to his own imagination. He's never been one for making up stories and things like that, but his lack of creativity doesn't stop his mind from fabricating images of Dean, hand slipped beneath his boxers, moaning softly against the cold tiles.

"A-Are you almost finished?"

"Just a sec, Cas."

This is embarrassing. Already, he can feel himself hardening at the simple idea of Dean touching himself, like it's something that doesn't really happen. But of course it does! Dean is a teenage boy, after all – and _not_ an inexperienced one at that. To think that someone so perfect would choose someone like Castiel, the socially awkward trenchcoat kid, over the pick of the entire school is just delusional.

"O-Oh, shit…"

Castiel dares to peek through his fingers, mildly concerned at the whimpered nonsense coming from his friend in the corner.

"Dean? Is everything alright?"

Dean lifts his head, cheeks ablaze, and yelps at Castiel's eyes on him.

"Cas!" He says with a squeak "C-Cover your eyes, damn it!"

But it's too late for that; Castiel has already spotted it, the heavy weight of undeniable arousal pressing against Dean's boxers. The other boy is a trembling mess, hair askew in the process of drying, and green eyes hooded in pleasure.

"Dean…"

"I didn't mean to – I-I wasn't _trying_ to –" Dean splutters, angling his hips in a way that shields his view of the boy's exposed crotch "Please don't freak out!"

"I won't," He says quietly, though his voice is dying to break on each word "I understand… It's only natural, Dean."

"This is so embarrassing, Cas. You can leave. I won't mind."

Castiel sighs, dropping his arm completely from his face to fix Dean with an exasperated look. If he honestly believes that Castiel would simply up sticks and leave because of something so juvenile, then he clearly needs his big, handsome head sorting out.

"I'm not going anywhere," He swallows thickly "Does it hurt?"

Dean blinks for a moment, seemingly confused, before letting his shoulders relax "Feels pretty fucking good, if I'm being honest."

Castiel chokes out a laugh at his friend's forwardness. Dean has never been a prude, per se, but to be so frank about something that he's blatantly appalled by is quite unexpected. But at least that means that he is no longer so embarrassed; Castiel would hate to make Dean feel awkward or uncomfortable, especially over a completely natural, human response.

Speaking of which… this whole ordeal has only encouraged the straining erection throbbing in his pants. He shifts his legs a little, hoping that Dean won't notice the sudden bulge in the midst of such an ordeal, but the gentle brush of material sliding against his arousal is enough to incite a filthy moan from the back of his throat. He freezes, face heating at the startling reaction, and shoots Dean a mortified look. The other boy simply drags his gaze down to meet Castiel's predicament, tongue running along his perfectly, plump lips unconsciously. The gesture makes him whimper once more, erection perking up at the thought of those lips against his flesh.

"Dean, I –"

"Is this turning you on, Cas?" Dean asks huskily.

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing his mind to focus on Gabriel in tights, or his father mowing the lawn butt-naked, but nothing seems to be working. His jeans are still uncomfortably tight, and Dean is still watching him lustfully, and – Wait, what?

"Dean," He says, voice scratchy and small "Are… are _you,_ turned on right now?"

Dean wriggles against the toilet seat, practically humping the porcelain, and bobs his head. The movement is stiff and awkward, but his eyes are dark and lidded with irrefutable desire. 

"Would it be insane if I said yes?"

Castiel draws in a shaky breath, heart pounding in his chest "W-Would me saying that I would very much like to kiss you right now be insane?"

"Nuh uh."

"Is your hand still stuck?"

Dean nods again, seemingly lost for words "Yeah…"

"Would you," He ducks his head, deep blush staining his cheeks "Would you like some help then?"

Dean shudders a little, mumbling a soft "Fuck." that makes Castiel smile. His pupils are blown wide, teeth puncturing his bottom lip with every anxious nibble, and Castiel has never wanted to taste that mouth more before in his life.

"I'd be happy to oblige."

"Cas…" Dean whines, hips canting reflexively "C'mon, man…"

He can't help but chuckle; teasing his friend is surprisingly enjoyable, especially when it gives him the chance to see the Winchester boy slowly crumbling under his control. It's probably nothing more than teenage hormones, but right now, that's the least of his worries. All he can focus on is the fact that Dean _wants_ him, _needs_ him. The most beautiful creature he's ever encountered – the very boy he's dreamt of marrying, for God's sake – is open and ready for him to touch and taste and _feel_. He can't say no to that, he just can't.

"Do you want me to kiss you, Dean?" He asks in a whisper.

Dean's chest rises and falls in a stuttering motion, eyes never leaving Castiel's lips "Fuck, yes."

"Do you want me to… touch you?"

"Cas…"

"Hold you? Please you?"

"Cas, baby." Dean moans "Need you now…"

He resists the urge to cup his own erection, the screaming need to touch himself almost unbearable "How, Dean? How do you need me? In what way?"

He's surprised by the steadiness of his voice. Deep down, he's melting; the very idea of Dean needing him sexually is leaving him breathless. He wants so _desperately_ to let the cool mask slip, to show the other boy his vulnerability and tell him everything he's tried to keep a secret over the years. How he feels about him, how he thinks about this – _them_ – almost constantly. But, no. It would be too risky, revealing to Dean how badly he craves his affections. It would be best just to stick to the physical sensations, let them both release their pent up desires and move on.

"Want you to… to touch me, Cas," Dean says, voice pleading "Want you to make me come, baby."

Castiel presses a palm against his crotch, hissing slightly at the stab of pained pleasure coursing through his veins "Touch you where, Dean?"

"My cock," The other boy gasps, fingers twitching with the impulse to rub himself through his boxers "M-My lips… Want you to touch me everywhere, Cas."

He clenches his fists by his sides, blunt nails digging into the soft flesh as a distraction from the incessant  _need._ His jeans drag against the peak of his erection as he starts to move, approaching Dean with hesitant steps across the cold, tiled floor. His entire childhood, he's been coming into this bathroom for various reasons – the cut on his knee from when Dean pushed him too hard on the swings, that time John let the boys share a carton of ice cream too soon after lunch, the countless sleepovers, the hiding from Mary at suppertime, the hushed conversations about school and summer and girls that Dean only wanted Castiel to hear… A massive chunk of his life has taken place in this room, in this house. _With Dean_. Always with Dean.

"Everywhere," He echoes, brushing his fingers gingerly against Dean's hairline "Like, here?"

"Cas…"

"Or, here?" His hand drops to his friend's chest, trailing down the trembling flesh to the V of his hips "There, maybe?"

Dean whines at the pace, head nodding unconsciously "There, Cas. Please…"

"How about… here?"

He leans forward to connect their lips, effectively swallowing Dean's moan of pleasure. The response is almost immediate. Dean grabs his arm, bringing him closer – chests flush – to deepen the kiss, teeth dragging across Castiel's bottom lip. He groans at the sensation, Dean nipping gently at his jaw before soothing the flesh with his tongue, then returning to his mouth. It's all too much, but not enough at the same time.

"Dean," He says, panting slightly "Don't want to... to orgasm, b-before you."

Dean chuckles breathlessly and cups Castiel's face, dragging his nose along his cheek "You wanna be in charge, baby? That it?"

"Dean…"

"Wanna touch me first, huh? Wanna make me come?"

"Dean," He places his hand on Dean's chest, pushing them slightly apart for a moment "I believe the kissing will be far more enjoyable with both hands."

Dean shifts his arm instinctively, wincing at the opposing tug keeping his fingers firmly in place "I can't help it, Cas."

"Then let me be of service," He smiles shyly "Where is the bottle?"

"O-Over there…" Dean says in a hush, tilting his head towards the white spirit on the side.

Castiel takes the bottle carefully, ripping a few squares-worth of toilet paper from the roll and wetting it in his hands. The liquid is cold, quite tingly, but the feeling is soon lost to the overwhelming sense of heat radiating from Dean's hooded gaze. He notices how his hand twitches against his boxers, impatient for Castiel's touch.

"Let me." He whispers, pulling gently at Dean's waistband.

The material pools at Dean's bare feet, toes curling against the cold floor. Castiel smiles at the freckle on his friend's big toe, the one that Dean hates with a passion. He remembers falling asleep watching that stubborn, brown dot one night years ago, top and tailing in Dean's bed during the summer.

Dean stiffens at the first touch, face red with blotchy embarrassment. Castiel tries to keep his fingers from touching Dean completely at first, instead opting to rub the drying glue with damp tissue; he doesn't want to move too fast for fear of scaring Dean off. It's still so strange, Dean wanting this with another boy. For as long has Castiel has known him, the elder Winchester has been the ladies' man of Lawrence, always charming girls here and there. His longest relationship had been fairly serious – a girl named Lisa Braeden whom Dean had met in his biology class the first year of High School. Castiel had never experienced jealousy before that agonizing year and half in which Dean spent his Saturdays with Lisa instead of him and Sam. To even imagine Dean being interested in the same gender is ludicrous, _impossible._ And yet, here they are.

"You okay, buddy?" Dean asks, glancing down at Castiel's now-motionless hand.

He meets Dean's concerned gaze with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. If he's going to do this, if he's going to be intimate with the only boy he's every truly cared about romantically, then he needs answers. Maybe he's not the love of Dean's life, maybe they'll never be happy together like that, but if this is all some cryptic way of his friend coming out to him, then he needs to know.

"Dean," He swipes his thumb across Dean's cheek bone, sucking in a wary breath "Are you… gay?"

Dean blushes and looks away, long lashes stroking his skin like tiny hands of encouragement. It pains Castiel to see his friend like this, embarrassed about who he may or may not be. They've shared everything over the years, after all. From first kisses, to first crushes; biggest fears, to biggest hopes. To think that Dean would even be mildly concerned regarding Castiel's reaction makes him feel guilty, like he's failed his friend in some way or another. He'd never judge Dean for something he can't control. It's just not in him to think badly of the Winchesters.

"Bi," Dean says after a moment. His words are choked and quiet; it pains Castiel in ways he never thought possible "I… I think I prefer girls. B-But… there's been some guys that I…"

"You don't have to say," Castiel assures him, too afraid for Dean to finally confirm that his feelings are one-sided "I understand."

Dean turns to face him again, expression more pleading than guarded. It's strange; he's known this boy practically his entire life, has mastered in the art of deciphering Dean's many concealed emotions, and yet he can't for the life of him translate the look of half fear, half hope, flitting across his friend's face right now.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean smiles softly "But your hand is kinda on my junk… so let's not talk about feelings crap, alright?"

Castiel grins a little, something unusual for him. Perhaps he's just relieved that Dean is being himself again, not worrying about what Castiel thinks of him. He fell for that mischievous glint in his eyes, after all; the devil-may-care attitude that makes him swoon internally.

"Shall I… continue?"

Dean shrugs, dropping his gaze down to Castiel's hand "Uh, I… I-I guess. If you want to."

"Of course."

He dabs at the glue carefully, nothing sexual or teasing, but it's enough to make Dean squirm. He relishes the way the other boy's eyes slip closed while he works, murmuring something softly to himself as if to discourage the urge to pull Castiel into one more kiss. A part of him wishes that Dean would just do it already, but his instinct to make sure his friend is okay is far stronger than the hormones tenting his jeans.

"I'm just going to peel this gently," He says softly, scraping his nails beneath the glue. It feels like plastic under his fingers, all stringy and smooth "Does that feel okay?"

Dean opens one eye to inspect Castiel's handiwork and nods, smiling weakly in a way that makes him melt inside "Yeah, Cas. That's great."

"How did you even get into this mess?" He chuckles "Surely you realized your… _lube,_ was actually superglue when your poured it onto your fingers."

Dean shifts on the toilet seat, suddenly uncomfortable, and shrugs. The rosy blush dusting his cheeks is enough to bring out the scattering of sandy freckles dancing across his skin. It makes him want to kiss every single spot, taste every single blemish.

"I was kinda in a hurry… h-heat of the moment, ya know?"

"You must have been having a very wild fantasy," He says with a smirk, though his insides are twisting in some foul form of jealousy "Who were you thinking about?"

Dean shrugs again, refusing to meet Castiel's eyes "No one… nothing. It was – nothing."

He's far from convinced, but the panicked look on his friend's face is enough to warn him off. It was probably a boy, if he's acting so flustered. Maybe it was Benny from the football team; Dean was always laughing and joking with him, wasn't he? Or maybe it was Aaron from tenth grade, the one that Dean was paired up with for a project; the two of them did seem to spend an awful lot of time 'taking notes' together over the weekends.

"You don't have to say."

Dean visibly relaxes, releasing a shaky breath that blows hot against his forehead "H-How's it looking down there, man? We ready to get on with the good stuff?"

Castiel feels himself blush. It's nice to know that Dean considers them being intimate the 'good stuff' "Almost done, Dean. I just don't want to peel your skin off…"

"Yeah. That'd probably be best."

With one more tear, Dean is wriggling his fingers free. Castiel grins at the look of pure relief washing over his friend's face and goes to stand, steadying himself on Dean's knee, before being drawn against the other boy's chest.

"Dean, what are you –?"

His question is muffled by a pair of warm lips moving gently against his own. The touch is so soft and loving… He could almost pretend that this was normal, that he and Dean were just two boyfriends making out lazily for no particular reason. Before he knows it, his hand has shifted to the back of Dean's neck, palming the clammy skin with trembling fingers. Dean leans back into the touch, sighing softly at the sensation, and smiles against Castiel's mouth.

"You were right," He chuckles, squeezing Castiel's hips with a wink "This is way more awesome with two hands."

Castiel buries a nervous laugh into the crook of Dean's neck and shrugs "When am I ever wrong?"

"Touché."

He can still feel Dean's arousal pressing against his thigh. With his boxers gone, Castiel has a free view of the boy's genitals; if only he'd look down, he could see Dean in all his beautiful glory. And Dean _wants_ him too, he must. Why else would he ask Castiel to stay, to assist him in something so personal? Here he has the perfect opportunity to get closer to the very person he loves most, for perhaps the first _and_ last time, but he's just too scared. His feelings for Dean run far deeper than a silly crush, an awkward string of wet dreams and High School expectations. He's not a child, as cliché as that may sound. Next year, with the impending stress of graduation and college applications, Castiel could very well lose his best friend to the horrors of adulthood. He understands the issue of time, that this may be his only chance to show Dean how he really feels. But what about afterwards? What about tomorrow, when Dean laughs it off as an 'experiment', something to joke about fifty years in the future? How is Castiel supposed to stand there and take it, pretend that this means nothing to him? He doesn't want to be laughing about this when they're sixty; he wants them to be _married_ when they're sixty, for Christ's Sake!

"I can't do this," He says, pushing away from Dean with a gasp "I can't… _pretend_ anymore."

Dean frowns at him, all adorable with his furrowed brows and crinkled nose. Castiel wants so badly to falls back into those arms and pretend that this _is_ okay, but he just can't. Not today, not anymore.

"I don't… What are you –?"

"I'm gay!" He cries, voice shaking on every syllable "A-And I know this because, well… because I've been in love with you since Middle School, Dean. I'm so sorry."

He covers his face with hands, sinking to the ground with a pitiful groan. He can't bear to face Dean, to see the look of discomfort, the _judgment._ Maybe he's weak. Maybe seeing that disgust – the very same expression his grandfather wore at Christmas last year, when he came out to his family – on Dean, his best friend, will break him once and for all. He may be tough, strong enough to take on the school's hardest bullies by himself, but he's fairly certain that nothing could prepare him for losing Dean Winchester. Nothing at all.

"What are you sorry for, Cas?" Dean whispers. His voice sounds close; maybe he's joined Castiel on the ground, he's not sure "Why would you be sorry for that, man?"

He sniffs, resisting the urge to burrow into Dean's warmth and kindness forever "Because… you don't want me like that, Dean. And I've messed everything up with these pathetic _feelings_ of mine. So, I apologize. F-For being me."

Dean grabs him firmly by the shoulder, twisting him around with brute force "Don't you _ever_ say that again, Cas. Don't you _ever_ be sorry for who you are. You – You're incredible."

"I'm not that…"

"Yes, you are," Dean tilts his chin upwards, green eyes red-rimmed and bright with emotion "You're fucking incredible, Cas. And smart, and funny, and… and gorgeous."

Castiel tries to move, to escape Dean's vice-like grip and flee, like the coward he is "You're just saying that…"

"No, Cas! I mean it, I swear!"

"Then, why… why didn't you say anything?" He says with a sob. It's unexpected, terrifying; he never cries "Why wouldn't you tell me, Dean? If you feel that way, why wouldn't you say something?"

Dean rubs at the corners of his eyes furiously, fat tears rolling onto his calloused skin "Because I was scared, alright?! I've never felt this way before, Cas! I-I didn't even know for sure whether I was… But you? With you I just _know,_ okay? You just feel _right_!"

"It's just because we're friends," He tries to say, squeezing away the pesky tears falling down his cheeks "You're just confused about who you are… but you know me, you're comfortable around me, so maybe you _think_ –"

"Don't tell me what I think, Cas!" Dean growls "I know what this is! I know how I feel!"

"But –"

"I'm in love with you, too, you idiot! I have been for years!"

Castiel freezes, hands still fisted in the dark green material of Dean's shirt. It's funny, he realizes now, that he's still wearing this when his bottom half is completely bare. He can smell the faint tang of aftershave – spicy and fresh – lingering amongst the crinkles of cotton. It makes him want to cry even harder, to surrender to Dean's words and just let himself hope that they speak the truth. Maybe he can have this one thing. Maybe they both can.

"Do you really mean that?" He whispers, eyes wide and questioning, ready to detect any flicker of deceit.

Dean sucks in a breath as a single tear crawls down his face, snaking around the curve of his lips and beading on the ball of his chin. He looks beautiful, Castiel thinks to himself, in a devastating kind of way. He always looks beautiful, though.

"The word doesn't really have a dictionary definition," Dean shrugs sheepishly "B-But yeah. Yeah, I really think I do, Cas."

He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Quite frankly, he's sick of either option; he's done enough of both in the past hour to last him a lifetime. So instead of mulling it over in his head, he wraps his arms around Dean's neck and presses his lips to the boy's mouth. It's clumsy, uncoordinated, sloppy, and oh so perfect…

"Cas," Dean breathes against his skin "Love you so frickin' much, baby…"

"You've already said that, Dean."

"But I really, _really_ mean it..."

"I know," He smiles, grabbing at hair and clothes and flesh "I know, Dean… Me, too."

"Don't want this to be a onetime deal, Cas."

"Me neither."

"Want everyone to know your mine, baby… Every single motherfucker."

He shudders at the implication, the fact that he's _Dean's_ and no one else's "We'll tell them, Dean. T-Tonight, if you'd like. We'll tell them all."

Their hips slot together, Dean's thigh slipping between Castiel's legs. The friction is deliciously teasing, each sudden movement rubbing soft circles of pleasure against his erection. By now, it's straining for release; he can feel it throbbing against his jeans, begging to escape.

"Let me touch you," Dean mouths at the exposed skin of his collarbone "I can feel you, baby… you're so hard for me."

"Please, Dean… Please…"

A hand answers his prayers, squeezing the tender flesh above his crotch, before cupping the bulge like a scientist would some precious fossil. The touch is too gentle, featherlike; Dean is taking things slow when they should be fast. He needs to feel skin against skin, the slick slide of sweaty bodies moving in unison.

"Dean, come on…"

Dean chuckles at his whining "So impatient, Cas…"

The next moment, his jeans are gone, fingers skimming over the tent of his boxers at an agonizing pace. He bucks at the touch instinctively, tightening his grip on Dean's shoulder as a hand wraps around him through the thin material, pumping slowly. He can feel pre-come dampening his pants, wetting Dean's fingers in arousal.

"Gonna make you feel so good, baby…"

His boxers are discarded in a heap on the floor, quickly forgotten as his erection finally springs free. The brush of cold air could make him reach his peak alone, but he's soon distracted by the soft touch of lips against his neck. Dean hoists him onto his lap, attacking his jaw, his throat, his earlobe, with gentle nips and warm, wet kisses. He feels so loved, it makes him want to dance (though that would be horrifying for everyone involved).

The utter relief is indescribable when Dean finally – _finally_ – takes them both in his fist. The combination of calloused skin, sweaty scent, and lustful moans breathing down his ear is enough to make him close already. Untangling himself from Dean's neck, he whips off his own shirt in one fluid movement, convincing Dean to cease his work long enough to do the same. It feels so much better like this, completely exposed; he feels like they're merging almost, heartbeats pounding in synchronisation with each rut and buck of hips. Having Dean's trembling flesh pressed so close to his own is something of dreams. This whole scenario sums up his late-night shower fantasies, if he's being honest.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean moans against his shoulder "So close, baby…"

He could watch this show forever. Dean looks utterly perfect like this, slowly becoming undone. His eyelids flutter with each slide of wet skin, plump lips parting softly with supressed ramblings. There's this beautiful dark blush staining his cheeks, freckles like stars against a purple night sky, arching over the bridge of his nose. He really does wish that he could kiss them all; maybe one day that will be a possibility.

When he begins to feel that familiar coil of heat in his stomach, he pushes Dean away, dropping to his knees in a burst of filthy desire.

"Cas, what are you –?"

Castiel cuts Dean off with a smile, swallowing his throbbing member in one easy go. It's not like he has any experience with this sort of thing but, crazy as it sounds, Dean just seems to _fit_ in every way possible.

"Oh, fuck, Cas," Dean cants his hips, grabbing a fistful of dark hair "Oh, baby… ungh…"

The moans of approval send heat straight to his cock, spotting his vision like a thin film over a camera lens. It's like he's seeing things through someone else's eyes, a hazy fog on the horizon of a beautiful sunset. He bobs his head a few times, tongue swirling at the tip of Dean's leaking erection, before taking him down once more. The way Dean groans when he hollows his cheeks makes him gasp, nosing at the dark blonde scruff at the top of his crotch for a moment longer.

"Touch yourself," Dean says breathlessly, hips thrusting into the wet heat of Castiel's mouth "Touch yourself, baby…"

He obliges with a soft moan, fisting his own erection with a vengeance. The sensation has him panting against Dean's cock, mouthing lazily at the pulsing flesh while his climax builds; he can feel himself twitching, ready to erupt at any moment. When Dean finally grabs the back of his head with both hands, grunting and thrusting, Castiel is long gone. He comes with the taste of Dean, hot and salty, against his tongue, spurting thick strings of pleasure against Dean's crotch.

"Oh, God, Cas… f-fuck… ungh – oh, God…"

Castiel swallows the bitter taste, letting himself fall limply from his fist, and slumps to the ground. Dean still has his eyes closed when he glances up, petting Castiel's hair with shaking hands. His blush has spread to his ears, fringe plastered to the sweaty surface of his forehead, and Castiel has never loved the boy more. With a lazy smile, he reaches up to brush the sticky hairs away, heart thrumming in his chest when those green eyes flutter open once again.

"Cas…"

"Dean."

"That was… I can't even…" Dean chuckles hysterically "Oh, wow."

Castiel grins "I'm inclined to agree with you on that."

"I didn't know it could feel so good."

"Me neither."

"You were never so dirty in my dreams, Cas." Dean teases, winking playfully.

"So… it was me you were thinking of?"

Dean shakes his head fondly, pulling Castiel up onto his feet with a sigh "Always, Cas."

"I must take full responsibility for this whole ordeal, then," He says, brushing his lips against the hollow of Dean's throat "For distracting you into supergluing your own genitals."

Dean laughs "Nah… I think that falls down to my bitch of a brother. I hate to say it, but we actually owe the kid."

"You would have told me how you felt eventually."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Of course," He smiles "I'm very hard to resist, Dean."

"Pfft… tell me about it, man."

"So, what now?"

Dean heaves a sigh, dragging Castiel to his chest with a shrug. He loves the feeling of those lips in his hair, whispering nonsense against his scalp. It's so strange to think that this is _his_ now, that he's actually allowed to have this kind of love.

"Well, I'm kinda sick of being stuck in this damn closet. I dunno about you."

"My parents already know about me."

"Wait, what?" Dean pulls away to look him in the eyes "You serious? Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighs, albeit affectionately "That would have been difficult considering that _you_ were the reason I came out in the first place."

"Fair enough."

"So… do you want us to tell John and Mary tonight?"

"I kinda get the feeling they already know," Dean says "But what the heck."

He swallows thickly "Are you going to tell them about… me?"

He's hoping that it's a given, that this whole situation has proven that their feelings are mutual for one another. But there's still that cloud of doubt looming in the back of his mind, preparing him for this to all be some kind of practical joke at the end of the day. Dean is just so beautiful; it's quite overwhelming to think that he could want Castiel like that.

But when Dean presses his mouth to Castiel's nose, breathing him in with a small, contented smile gracing his lips, he knows that there's nothing to be worried about.

"You're the best part," He whispers "Why the heck would I leave you out of it?"

"I love you, Dean."

"I love you, too, Cas."

And for once in his lonely life, he actually believes those words to be true.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I went off on a bit of a tangent with this one... I just hope that it's bearable. Please, please, _please_ leave kudos and comments - it makes me so happy! Thanks, guys :)


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